


How to Cover for a Runaway Prince: A Guide by Mymble

by kittyorange



Series: Reverse Cinderella AU [1]
Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Alternate Universe, Background Relationships, Gen, M/M, Mymlans dotter | The Mymble's Daughter Has Paws and a Tail, Pre-Relationship, Prince Snufkin, Sibling Arguments, Snusmumriken | Snufkin Has Paws and a Tail, The author has a cloudy understanding of how royal politics actually work, emotional issues, might add more to this, reverse Cinderella AU, this was supposed to be for snufmin week but i got distracted by loving mymble, well meaning but distant parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 18:52:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19362478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittyorange/pseuds/kittyorange
Summary: Mymble looked out for her siblings before they moved into the palace, and being a princess isn't going to change that.She does wish Snufkin was a little less of a handful, though.





	How to Cover for a Runaway Prince: A Guide by Mymble

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stingerpicnic (ibelieveinfiction)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibelieveinfiction/gifts).



> WHEW okay once again big thank you to [@stingerpicnic](https://stingerpicnic.tumblr.com/), who helped make this au!!! A lot of this is based off conversations we had, and I just wanna say thanks again for sharing your ideas with me friend!!!
> 
> Check em out on [ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibelieveinfiction/pseuds/stingerpicnic) and [tumblr](https://stingerpicnic.tumblr.com/)!

A great deal of the Mymble-children were too young to really _remember_ life before the palace—before neatly pleated skirts and full-course meals and manners and nannies and servants—but not the Mymble’s eldest daughter. She remembered when it was just her mother and the Joxter, that peculiar, smelly man who had taken up residence in her mother’s apple tree (who could have imagined then, that he would be a king!). She remembered the thousands of chores little mymbles had to perform to keep a household of over thirty children afloat. Those memories made it difficult for her to empathize with her siblings when they complained of royal duties. Whining about lessons they could all finish on their own time seemed nonsensical; and while she knew message-bearing or apprenticing could be stressful, it was a responsibility the children willingly sought to fill up their ample free time. Mymble, though she tried to not be callous, had little patience for such complaints, not when her own free time in childhood had to be carved forcefully away from her great list of chores.

But she could empathize with Snufkin. As the crown prince he truly got the worst of it; constant lessons he could not escape or ignore, servants monitoring him at all hours, and as he grew older, higher expectations for his involvement in state affairs. There was an entire kingdom’s worth of pressure on his incredibly young shoulders, and Mymble couldn’t help but worry for him.

So maybe, every now and again, she would cover for him when he snuck away. Just maybe.

It had started when Snufkin was around four or five years old. Mymble had been in the kitchens helping wash dishes when she heard of it. Dishwashing had been one of her favorite chores before; something about the repetitive motions just helped clear her mind. Some of the other nobles had scoffed at this particular habit of hers, but those were the same people who had been scandalized by the fact that Joxter was helping raise thirty-five children who were not his own. Her parents didn’t pay those folks any mind, and so neither did she. Not to mention, the company was a lovely way to keep up with gossip.

Anyways, she was helping wash dishes, when one of the fillyjonk nannies burst into the kitchen, shaking like a leaf “I’ve lost the crown prince!” she cried in a panicked, hushed tone. “Please, please you must help me search for him, oh!” She finally noticed Mymble and looked as though she might faint. “Princess Mymble! What a surprise…” She wrung her hands nervously. Before Mymble could say any reassurances, she began babbling:

“Y’see, Princess, well, I was going over Snufkin’s lessons with him, and I noticed it was such a lovely day outside, and well, the prince spends so much of his time looking out the windows, all forlorn, I thought to myself, ‘Well, maybe we’ll have the lesson outside, that oughta cheer him up!’ He just looked so _sad,_ y’see. I had barely taken him out to the gardens, and sat down to begin going over the letters, and I turned around and _poof!_ The prince had vanished completely! I’ve been lookin for him, believe me, and I’ll find him, please there’s no reason to alert the King and Queen…”

Mymble took the poor woman’s hands in her own and gave a reassuring _squeeze,_ “I’ll help you look, dear,” she announced, “I know little Snufkin has a tendency to wander, and so do my Mama and Papa. I don’t think you’d be punished even if they did find out you lost him. Especially since my Mama lost track of me a fair number of times when I was his age,” she gave the woman a conspiratorial wink. Her face, which had been so pale with fright, quickly colored with a deep flush. Mymble thought it made her look quite lovely. But now was hardly the time for flirting.

All the men and women working in the kitchens pitched in, scouring the gardens for any sign of the young prince. After an hour of searching it became clear that little Snufkin was not there still, and those that could still spare the time widened their search to include the neighboring forest.

Perhaps it was pure dumb luck that when Mymble heard humming, she thought to look up into the branches of a nearby tree; or maybe it was the memory of her Papa’s favorite perch in their old home. Regardless, there she found Snufkin, lounging along the length of one of the sturdier branches, tail swaying idly as he hummed along with the sounds of the forest. Mymble couldn’t recall ever having seen a five-year old look so at peace with his place in the world. And she’d seen her fair share of children.

Quietly, so as not to disturb his little reverie, Mymble climbed the tree as well. There was another sturdy-looking branch neighboring the one Snufkin was laying on, and Mymble hauled herself up there beside him, giving him some time to finish his song. He hummed the final notes with a happy little sigh, and snuggled himself more comfortably into the little patch of sunlight that filtered down onto his branch. Mymble took this as her cue to speak up.

“You really gave everyone a fright, little one,” she teased. Snufkin’s eyes snapped open with a little _squeak,_ and he hurriedly climbed even farther up the tree.

“Mymble!” he cried, peeking over the edge of his newest perch, “How did you find me?”

“Oh, I just followed the sound of one of the loveliest melodies I’d ever heard,” Mymble swung her legs as she spoke, the perfect picture of nonchalance, “And I found a little mumrik hiding up here. Won’t you come sit by me, Snufkin?” she patted the spot next to her.

Snufkin remained completely silent for a while, and Mymble worried a moment if the flattery had been too much. He could be awfully shy, but Mymble could tell a genuine talent when she heard it and thought such efforts ought to be praised.

Soon after, she heard him shuffling down, landing right next to her with a small _plop!_ “It was about the forest,” he confessed, a dark pink dusting his cheeks. The flattery had been just right, then. “Everything here is so _free_. The birds don’t care about things like table manners or lessons or _horrible_ , itchy clothes,” this admission made Mymble realize Snufkin had ditched his nice shirt somewhere and was running about in just his underclothes. He wouldn’t be the first mymble-child to be particular about what he wore; she would try to bring that up with Mama later. Maybe they could get him something more comfortable. “They’re just birds. And I’m just Snufkin. I like it a lot.”

He seemed so sure of himself, so in love with the world around him, that she couldn’t help but ache for the boy. Because Mymble also remembered the wide, sprawling forest that lay just outside the cottage of her childhood—perfect for a little mymble to explore, out on fantastical quests of her own invention. There was nobody around to judge her for acting out entire conversations with invisible participants, or for fumbling as she danced through the trees, filled with nothing but daydreams and joy. She couldn’t fault Snufkin for wanting those kinds of experiences for himself. They were certainly difficult to come by in the palace, especially for a child who had a difficult time playing with others.

“Do you mind if I touch you, Snufkin?” she asked, trying not to overstep and scare him away again.

“S’fine,” Snufkin mumbled, and Mymble laid a single paw on his back. He seemed to relax into the touch, and so Mymble started rubbing soothing circles into his skin. The boy let out a profound sigh, far too big and deep for such a tiny body. “I have to go back soon, don’t I?”

Mymble nodded, “Fraid so, kiddo.”

He groaned, burying his face into the folds of Mymble’s frock now, “I hate it there!”

“There isn’t a single thing you like?” Mymble asked, petting Snufkin’s hair with her other paw.

After a few moments of grumbling, he finally admitted, “I s’pose the pie we had a week ago, with the red filling, that was alright.”

Mymble barked out a laugh, and scooped her brother up, “I’ll see if I can pull some strings so we can have some more of that pie tonight, then! And if you’re all good with your lessons tomorrow morning, I promise to take you out exploring in the evening. Does that sound good to you?”

Snufkin’s eyes were sparkling at the idea. He nodded over and over, his little tail wagging with excitement, “You promise?”

“I do,” she smiled warmly. “Are you ready to go, then?”

This time his nod was a little more hesitant, but he agreed to climb onto her back so Mymble could carry them both down safely. Then they walked back, paw in paw, to the garden gates. Snufkin hummed a little more to himself on the way, a bit of the same tune he’d invented earlier.

“Hey, Mymble?” he interrupted himself, as the gates finally came into view.

“Yes, Snufkin?”

“You’re alright too,” he said, giving her paw a little squeeze, “Not just the pie.”

Mymble’s heart _melted._ She would do anything for this child.

 

* * *

 

She absolutely would not do this.

Covering for him when he snuck away, so he could enjoy some time to himself? She could do. Tracking him down and retrieving him before people started getting suspicious? She could do that too. Tutoring him in what she could, and forging the bits of homework that he missed? She wasn’t proud of it, but she could manage that as well.

Dealing with fairy godmothers for magical items that could cast some kind of… pauper cloaking spell was a bit too much for her.

Snufkin had disappeared for _months,_ to the point where Mymble was hard pressed to excuse his absences. She knew her brother was predisposed to wandering off, but she always had an almost preternatural knack for finding his hiding spot and dragging him back home. When she found herself utterly stumped as to where the prince could have possibly gone, she’d panicked, fearing the worst—but instead of running to tell her parents what had happened, like a rational mymble should, she had lied once more, saying she was taking him on a short camping trip, and set out to find him.

A few weeks’ journey brought her to a quaint little valley, where she noticed a strange minstrel playing on his mouth-organ. The tune he played was oddly familiar, and Mymble realized it was one of the melodies Snufkin would hum after sneaking off into the forest. As she listened, and recognized, it was as if a fine veil of mist lifted from his face, and she recognized her brother once more.

“ _Snufkin!”_ she had hissed, and she could see his pupils narrow to slits in fright. Mymble ended up having to hunt him down and basically drag him back to the palace by the scruff of his neck—though she wasn’t so cruel as to deny him a goodbye before they left. Now he was trying to convince her to let him go _back!_

“Snufkin, this is _ridiculous.”_

“But Mymble, it could _work!”_ Snufkin insisted, clasping her paws. “As long as I have the spell on me, nobody would recognize me as the crown prince!”

“ _I_ recognized you, Snufkin.”

“That’s only because you recognized ‘All Small Beasts,’” he waved his paw dismissively, “Others don’t know me so well.”

“Wait—you finally named that tune?” Mymble perked up. She’d never heard him refer to his music by any specific _names_ before.

“Well, yes,” he started fidgeting, flustered by the question, “Moomintroll helped inspire the words. Anyway, that isn’t important right now. All you would need to do is cover for me, and you already do such a good job of it!”

“I can’t cover for you if you’re gone for _months,_ Snufkin!”

“It’ll only be till winter! And everyone already thinks I have some horribly delicate constitution from all the times you’ve told them I was ‘sick’, just tell them I’ve fallen ill and that I wish only to be tended to by my _dear, loving sister,_ and to give and receive messages through her alone. People would believe it!”

Mymble growled softly. Of _course_ they would believe it. But the crown prince suddenly falling so ill as to be confined to his bed would certainly cause some panic. Doctors would be called to tend to him, the people’s faith in the royal lineage would be shaken. Not to mention the suffocating amount of work that would suddenly be for _Mymble,_ who would need to perform both Snufkin’s duties and her own. And he only planned to come back in _winter,_ the season half the country slept through! Could he not see the enormity of such a request?

“No.”

“But, Mymble! —”

“ _No,_ Snufkin,” she heaved a great sigh, and took Snufkin’s paws in her own again. “Listen, I know you crave freedom more than anything. But you truly live a blessed life here. You want for very little. And when you are king, you will have the power to change the _world,_ ” he yanked his paws back from her as she spoke, clenching them to fists at his sides. He clearly wanted to speak, but Mymble was not finished. She continued clearly, sternly: “You have a responsibility to your people. To give back to them for everything they gave you, and to make sure every small creature in your kingdom has a happy life. Sometimes, that responsibility will demand sacrifice.”

“Then I will sacrifice my responsibilities, if that is what it takes!” Snufkin stomped furiously, glaring up at Mymble with a fierceness she had never before seen.

“You can’t possibly mean that, Snufkin—”

“I do!”

“Your people depend on you for support and guidance!”

“I never asked for such a burden!”

Mymble could see his chest trembling as he shouted, saw the pricks of angry tears building in his eyes. But she had no pity for him, only mirrored his rage. She had been far too soft on him; he had grown into such a selfish little _brat!_ She clenched her own paws into fists as well and glared back down at him.

“And if your abandoning your responsibilities makes life worse for your subjects? What about your new friends—that Moomintroll you mentioned?”

“The moomins don’t need a king to make them happy,” he spat, “Their home is self-sustaining.”

Mymble snorted, “Until a drought dies up all their crops, or a flood comes to destroy their home. I’ve lived a life just like theirs before, Snufkin, I know how fragile it all can be!”

“Then I want to _be there,_ with them, when whatever happens! I want to support Moomintroll directly, not from afar. I…” his throat closed, and he burst into tears. Watching him cry only made Mymble feel angrier, but with a deep breath she forced the feeling down into a quiet, simmering burn.

“You can still visit him, dear,” she offered, “Your life as a prince and your friendship with this Moomintroll can coexist.”

“ _When?”_ he demanded, “When would I possibly have the time, as prince or as king? You know as well as I do how much work it all requires! How _busy_ everyone is, all the time!”

“You’ll still have _some_ amount of free time—”

“Oh, sure! Rarely, if ever, and always chaperoned. Tell me this, Mymble,” his voice was still strangled and thick from crying, “When was the last time you got to spend any time with Papa?”

And Mymble could feel the final flames of her anger dying inside of her, replaced by a profound sense of grief. Because Papa always seemed stressed and tired and miserable, surrounded by work, by nobles, and by responsibilities he detested. Because the last she had seen of him had been a strangled, “Hello, little Mymble!” called over the dinner table, before he was dragged back into political discussion _again._ And because Mymble missed him, more than anything; the father that loved them all unconditionally, the father that kept a little book of their names and favorite things so he could better keep track of them all, the father that _stayed._

If Mymble insisted that Snufkin could find some free time between his princely, and eventually kingly duties, that would mean the Joxter could have as well, but never spent it on them. That was something she absolutely couldn’t accept. So with that single question, Mymble knew Snufkin had won. As the silence stretched on, and Snufkin’s tears stopped, she knew that _he_ realized it, too.

Mymble took another deep breath, hoping that the intake of air would clear away the heaviness that had settled in her chest. Maybe he had won the battle, but the war was still unfinished “You have to understand, Snufkin. You’re asking the exact same of me.”

“But you can cast it all off later! Mymble, please,” he took her paws back in his own, “Only until Winter, and then only until I am king. I just want some time to spend with Moomintroll, Mymble I…” his voice quieted to nearly a whisper, “I think I might love him.”

Mymble felt suddenly as though she had been socked in the chest, “Oh, _Snufkin!”_ she breathed, staring at him in complete shock. He suddenly looked very uncomfortable, taking his paws back and refusing to look her in the eyes. She clasped her paws in front of her, tearing up just a little bit, “I never thought— _you must tell me everything!”_

Snufkin only laughed nervously, and continued looking pointedly at anything but her. Mymble’s attention was sharp now, barely even breathing as she awaited his reply. Finally, he seemed to find the words.

“Moomintroll makes me feel free, I suppose. He takes me on adventures and listens to me and doesn’t judge me for not knowing the things I’ve yet to learn. He likes my music. And he gets so excited about the smallest things!” he seemed to forget his anxiety as he continued, his face glowing with unmistakable fondness, “I would love to see him smile forever.”

Mymble could barely contain her glee, “Oh, I’m so _happy for you!”_ she cried, scooping him up in a big hug and twirling him around. Then she felt him tense up at the touch, and suddenly remembered herself. “Sorry!” she let go, “No hugging?”

Snufkin took a moment to regain his balance, “It’s just a lot at once,” he explained, rubbing his arms. Then he seemed to curl up on himself again. Mymble watched him war with himself for a while, until he finally spoke once more, “If I’m telling the truth, Mymble, I’m scared.”

She got the feeling he wasn’t talking about the hug anymore, “How do you mean?”

“I’ve never liked someone this much.”

Ah, he was nervous. Mymble hummed in agreement, “Love can be scary.”

Snufkin seemed to not expect this answer. “Then why do you do it all the time?” he asked, looking her over. She took a few moments to conjure up her explanation.

“Love is a kind of happiness, I suppose. It fills you from toe to tip with light and wonder that something so marvelous can exist. And you can’t pretend you’re a stranger to it, little brother; you’ve always loved your forests and your oceans and stars,” Mymble shrugged, “I’ve always loved people. They carry such beautiful stories inside of them.”

Snufkin hummed back in response. They stood in silence a few moments more, contemplating all that had been said. Well, at least Mymble had come to a conclusion about Snufkin’s plan.

“Alright,” she crossed her arms in front of her chest, “I’ll help you.”

Snufkin perked up _immediately._ “You will?” he beamed, “Oh, _thank_ _you,_ Mymble!”

“I would like to meet with this ‘fairy godmother’ of yours first, though. I need to understand the particulars of this magic if I’m to work with it.”

“Of course! No problem! Oh, thank you again!”

Mymble rolled her eyes, trying not to look quite as moved as she felt. A small smile crept onto her face, regardless. It was just so _romantic!_

 

* * *

 

The plan they had settled on was this; Snufkin would leave in the spring with an enchanted mouth-organ he could use to cast a glamour over himself. He would travel back to Moominvalley and drink his fill of adventuring before he had to grow up and inherit the throne. Mymble would stay behind with an enchanted comb she could use to glamour herself into a convincing fake Snufkin, if the need arose. The items were also linked by a thread of magic that allowed Mymble to track Snufkin on his journeys, so she could reach him if any emergency arose. Snufkin complained a fair bit about that last admission, but Mymble refused to budge and he eventually conceded. Then he departed, with only a few days of winter left, to see his Moomintroll.

Which led to now. It was nearly midnight, and Mymble was still working through the mountains of paperwork that had built up in both of their brief absences.

As crown prince, most of Snufkin’s duties involved shadowing officials around the court and supporting some community projects in their major cities. Since Snufkin had rarely been around to complete the ‘shadowing’ aspect of his job, Mymble had taken the liberty of signing him onto a bunch of different charity projects to make up for it. There was one project in particular she thought he would like—one of the forests on the outskirts of the kingdom had been hit by a terrible forest fire, leaving many of the creeps and creatures who lived there homeless. The project was devoted to replanting the forest and finding safe interim homes for all the stranded people. It would have been a good chance for him to get his hands dirty and involve himself in community affairs at the same time.

That hardly mattered now, though. Snufkin had found his own path, and now it was Mymble’s job to help those poor creatures. The neighboring community had already made some significant strides in clearing debris and replanting native flora, even without royal intervention, but any extra resources would be a massive boon. She’d done some research on similar disaster relief efforts, and was trying to calculate a reasonable sum to petition from the treasury, but the candlelight was starting to burn her eyes and the numbers were all swimming together on the page.

Mymble leaned back from her work and tried to wipe the pain from her eyes, but closing them only intensified the sting. She pushed the exercise-book away and tried to think, for a moment, about anything but work. It had been a while since her last crush, she mused. Maybe a new beau could help make work less miserable. Some beautiful stranger who would guess the secret as soon as they met her, but rather than expose the deception, they would offer Mymble help. With two sets of hands they would tear through the paperwork like it was nothing, and have plenty of free time to go out dancing beneath the moonlight.

Oddly, the thought brought little comfort. Which was strange—who was Mymble if she wasn’t always chasing romance? But it felt almost as if she were going through the motions of developing crushes, recently. Besides, it would be too much of a risk to let many more people in on Snufkin’s secret. Mymble sighed. When had she become so serious?

“Another late night?” Little My interrupted her thoughts, climbing in Mymble’s room through the vent above her desk. She hopped down next to the exercise-book and tried to examine its contents.

Mymble snatched the book back before she could get a good look “None of your business, My,” she scolded, flipping the book closed.

“I hardly think its any of _your_ business, either,” Little My snorted, putting her little hands on her hips, “You’re covering Snufkin’s work again, aren’t you?”

Mymble pouted a bit at that, though she supposed it was hopeless to hide anything from her sister. “So what if I am?”

“You know you can’t keep covering for him forever. He’s gonna need to learn how to do these things _himself_ one day.”

“I know,” Mymble sighed, melting back into her seat, “but Snufkin never got enough time to just be a _child._ It was always lessons this, or don’t do that, or oh young prince you’ll hurt yourself! I just wanna help him get back some time to be himself.”

“And what about you, then? Will you have any time to be _yourself_ , doing his work?”

“I have time! I just gotta,” Mymble interrupted herself with an ill-timed yawn, “budget it.”

“It’s not ‘budgeting’ if you’re losing sleep, Mym,” Little My crossed her arms. Mymble didn’t have a good response to that. “Listen, I get it, you’ve always been soft on Snufkin because he’s your favorite, but—”

“ _What?_ ” Mymble shocked awake at the accusation, “Snufkin is _not_ my favorite!”

Little My hardly looked convinced, “You sure act like it! Look at this,” she snatched the exercise-book away and started thumbing through the contents, “Plans for a charity event that was hosted in Snufkin’s name. Lesson plans for Snufkin. Homework, homework, charity event, community initiative! Has he done a _single thing_ around here on his own?”

The answer to that was, of course, a resounding _no,_ but Mymble wasn’t going to admit that. Instead, she mumbled weakly, “I don’t help him because he’s my _favorite_.”

“Oh, yes you do.”

“No I don’t, _you’re_ my favorite!” Mymble slapped her paws over her mouth as soon as she said it. She, as the eldest sibling, had developed a very strict ‘no favorites’ policy, so that none of the little ones would feel left out of things. Then Little My was born, with her penchant for mischief and bluntness and wisdom far beyond her years. Mymble always thought looking after Little My was the most fun out of any of her siblings, if the most tiring. It was why Mymble had been planning on moving away and just raising Little My herself, before they’d all been summoned to the palace. But she had always been careful not to let that slip; she didn’t want My stirring up any sort of jealousy. Besides, she had always sort of hoped her actions spoke for themselves.

Apparently not recently, though. Mymble really had gotten too swept up in her brother’s affairs.

Little My’s response was a slow, incredulous blink. Then, her face split into a wide grin, “ _I’m_ your favorite? Me?” she asked, voice dripping with glee.

“Little My, please!” Mymble whisper-shouted, trying to grab at her tiny sibling before she could go spreading such blasphemy around the castle. Little My deftly dodged her grasp, and quickly climbed up the nearest bedpost, high enough that Mymble couldn’t reach.

“Nonono, I want to hear you say it again! So even though I fill the drawers up with pea soup, and bite at people’s ankles, and put deadly mushrooms in the kitchen’s mushroom-basket, I’m still your favorite of them all?” She leaned forwards from her perch, teasing.

“Little My!” Mymble buried her face in her hands, “Yes, alright? Of course you are! You always keep things interesting. But don’t you dare go spreading that around!”

At that Little My gave a triumphant laugh, and leapt down from the post into Mymble’s arms, nearly knocking them both over. “Don’t you worry, I can keep a secret!” she was positively beaming “You’re my favorite sister too, ya know.”

Mymble laughed and set Little My back down on the bed properly, then sat herself besides. “I promise not to get a big head about it,” she tapped lightly on her sister’s forehead.

Little My swatted her paw away, “So wait, if Snufkin isn’t your favorite, why are you doing so much for him?”

“Just because he isn’t my favorite doesn’t mean I don’t like him, or want to do him favors, Little My.”

“Yes but you’re losing sleep over this, Mymble! You wouldn’t be doing so much without good reason.”

“I have good reason,” Mymble defended, remembering just how _lost_ Snufkin looked in their argument, “I just can’t tell you what it is.”

Little My narrowed her eyes “I’ll find out eventually, you know.”

“I’m certain you will, but I can’t be the one to tell you. I made a promise.”

Little My hummed, and looked back over to Mymble’s work station. The candles had nearly burned themselves to stubs, now. Mymble probably should have snuffed them out when she stopped working. “You know what I think?” Little My turned back to Mymble, “I think you _enjoy_ this kind of work, and that’s why you keep doing it. From what I can see you’re very good at it. Much better than Snufkin.”

Mymble’s only response to that was a remarkable impression of a gaping fish.

Little My hopped up again, and crawled over to Mymble’s pillows, “I’m going to sleep, then,” she announced, “Don’t stay up too late!” And she curled up in the center of the pillows like a cat. Mymble had no idea where Little My expected her to put her head when she did go to sleep, but she supposed My was above such concerns. She smiled fondly, and went to blow out the candles. The rest of her work could wait until tomorrow.

Then Mymble settled into bed, maneuvering awkwardly around Little My. She managed to nestle herself into a comfortable spot on the side of the bed, and she pulled the covers snugly around her. Mymble felt warm, from the inside out, thinking about Little My’s praise. She was _good_ at this. She was good at this! All these years of covering for Snufkin, and Mymble never even stopped to consider she might actually have a talent for it. The thought made her feel all bubbly inside. Maybe she could do this, and even enjoy it, until Snufkin came back for winter.

She hoped her brother was having a nice night as well, in his little tent in Moominvalley.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you everyone for reading!!! This was,,, pretty self indulgent but I hope you enjoyed regardless. And I hope you all have a lovely day!!!
> 
> Hit me up on my [tumblr](https://candycorncartooncat.tumblr.com/) if you like! and dont forget [@stingerpicnic](https://stingerpicnic.tumblr.com/)!!!


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